Porn Battle Entries
by Blue Moon3
Summary: A medley of ficlets written for Porn Battle VIII on Dreamwidth. All Spock/Uhura Other pairings listed seperately
1. Yours

_Disclaimer: Not mine, absolutely none of it. Such a pity, because they'd have more fun if I was in charge. Ho hum._

_Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'rough sex', and for recumbentgoat who asked for ass slapping._

**Yours**

She'd done it without thinking. Not that she regretted, but she could never have guessed what she was unleashing.

Really, it was entirely his own fault. If he was going to work in her room between make-out sessions (or mutually enjoyable acts of physical intimacy, as Spock liked to call it), then she was going to watch him. If he was going to stand and bend over the console instead of sitting, like any normal person, her eyes were going to travel over the pleasing definition of his strong, sculpted ass. And if he was going to stay in that position for any length of time, could she really be blamed for acting on impulse, just this once, and coming up behind him to smack that ass?

The whack was satisfyingly sharp. Her hand had landed squarely across his buttocks, and was sharp enough that he twitched, his whole body going stiff. Not hard enough to hurt – like she could hurt him if she tried.

When he turned his head ever so slowly, to look at her, she was chuckling. She thought she could laugh it off. But his dark eyes were dangerous.

"Explain," he said coolly.

Her smile was beginning to grow forced. "Your butt looks really good when you're bent over like that. I wanted to show my appreciation."

And there went the eyebrow, arching as he straightened slowly, turning smoothly to face her. Seldom did he make her feel so small, but with a single step towards her he suddenly seemed to tower over her. Uhura swallowed.

"I have found your buttocks arousing on numerous occasions, Nyota. I had not realised there was a standardised means of expressing appreciation for such beauty." He tilted his head slightly, black eyes momentarily flicking down – to her lips? To her breasts? She couldn't tell. "May I?"

It was the deepening of his voice that took her breath away. He had let slip signs of his arousal before, but usually mid-coitus, when his self-control had almost completely gone and he functioned solely on sensation. She had never known his voice communicate such lust during a normal conversation.

Uhura swallowed again, hitching a smile onto her lips, despite the fear mixed in with her arousal. "Sure," she said casually.

Spock stood aside, gesturing for her to take up his original position. She did so, palms flat on the warm console, legs slightly apart. She stared at the wall ahead, concentrating on the loud thud of her heart.

"When you lean forward in that manner," he said darkly, "as you so often do as you work, your skirt rides up slightly, and from a seated vantage point I can see your thighs. And your undergarments. Despite my quite considerable self control, I find myself inadvertently recalling the feel of your legs wrapped around my hips as we make love." Uhura bit her lip, feeling strangely exposed despite being fully dressed. She would swear she could feel his eyes on her. "And then you often shift – would you mind?" Uhura glanced back at him – standing as he always did, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders rigid, but his focus entirely aimed on the lower half of her body. Her breath hitching, she looked front again and shifted, almost out of habit, moving her body's weight onto one hip.

"Just like that," he murmured. "And my focus moves from your thighs ... to your buttocks. Which, really, serve little logical purpose, particularly where the copulative act is concerned. Yet I find them deeply arousing." This final admission was punctuated by a firm smack to her right ass cheek. Uhura gasped, jumping, weight moving onto her toes. The sudden heat of his hand, the brief glimpse of the lust over-powering his mind drew her breath out in a soft moan.

"I begin to understand this gesture of admiration," he said, voice increasingly thick. There was the sound of him shifting, gentle fingertips lifting her skirt then hooking in the waistband of her panties. "The limited pain and considerable surprise cause your body to tense, making this portion of your anatomy even more erotic." The underwear around her ankles, effectively holding her in place – as if she'd want to be anywhere else – Spock pressed a chaste kiss to the heated spot where he'd slapped her. Another quick flash of hot pain, on her other ass cheek, quickly gentled with a long lick.

She could feel him breathing against her skin, quick and sharp and ragged. "I find myself incredibly aroused, Nyota," he said, voice breaking and lips brushing over her sensitised skin. "Would you have any objections to my continuing with more direct sexual activities?"

"Please," Uhura groaned, her fingers grasped tight around the edge of the console.

His tongue was between her legs, hot and quick, pressing and exploring her most intimate areas. She cried out, slumping forwards onto the computer's surface as his tongue wriggled inside her pussy. "God, Spock," she moaned, eyes falling closed. Even over the deafening sound of her own breath and heart and the blood pounding in her ears, she heard his zipper and the rustle of his clothing. "Fuck me," she whispered, her breath steaming the glass top of the console.

Spock needed no further instruction. Within moments, he was filling her, hips working fast as he slapped her again. Uhura moaned hard when his hand slid over her back to hold the nape of her neck, pushing her down and forwards while his other hand gripped her hip harder than ever before. Distantly, through the pleasure and the pain and the intensity, she thought that she would be bruised in the morning. Beyond all this, Spock was growling and pounding into her. In the harsh Vulcan tongue that was his native dialect, he commanded her to come – and Uhura knew better that to do anything but obey.

Distantly, as her orgasm rocked her, hips jerking in his painfully tight grip, she felt his rhythm speed and grow erratic. Leaning forward over her, he bit down on her neck, marking her where everyone would see. He twitched inside of her, as breath that he must have been holding was expelled across her throat in a single growled syllable, "Mine."

Uhura shuddered at the implications. He began to relax over her, and she turned her head to kiss him. Softly, looking into his already mellowing eyes, she agreed, "Yours."


	2. An Illogical Truth

_Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'dirty talk'._

**An Illogical Truth, Universally Acknowledged**

The concept of 'dirty talk' was highly illogical. The utterance of obscenities to purposely arouse a sexual partner was possibly acceptable, though he would have thought the more direct approach of stimulatory physical contact would prove more efficient. However, the additional application of direct insults spoken in a manner designed to provoke a similar response could only be a flawed attempt at sensuality, at its most basic level.

"I fail to understand," he said over his shoulder. Nyota had entered quietly, but he knew she was there. She came to stand behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder. "The plumber described the housewife as a 'whore'. This is an insult among humans, yet she seems to have reacted quite favourably."

"Where on earth did you find that?" Nyota asked, her voice several semitones higher than its normal pitch.

Spock looked over his shoulder at her, face its usual mask of placid disinterest. "The captain was kind enough to lend me some of his pornographic material for research purposes."

His lover's face told him that she was either displeased or disapproved – whether with his own actions or the captain's, he could not tell. Her eyebrows were drawn together, eyes slightly narrowed, and her lips had thinned and hardened to a straight line. "Why are you researching porn?"

Lifting his hand to hers, he brushed his fingertips across her knuckles in a manner that made him sigh inwardly. She had the most exquisite hands, such soft skin, and they felt entirely perfect. "I wish to please you, sexually. There is a lot about human sexuality I do not yet understand, and I wish to learn."

She shook her head. "Porn isn't the place to learn." She leaned over his shoulder, pressing her thumb to console's exit function. Spock breathed deeply through his nose, enjoying her close proximity and the faint lavender smell that always surrounded her. "You should just ask me," she added. He leaned into her and brushed his lips over a point just below her ear, which he knew from experience that she enjoyed.

"I am intrigued by the concept of dirty talk. It appears to be illogical, and yet many humans seem to find it arousing." Nyota was nodding her agreement. Intriguing. "Have you experienced this phenomena?"

She shrugged, a flush creeping up her neck. It was always difficult to discern whether she was embarrassed or sexually excited – perhaps a mixture of the two. "Yeah, I've liked dirty talk before."

"Could you explain the appeal?" he requested

She made the odd expression where she smiled and frowned simultaneously, and lay her hand against the nape of his neck. Spock had noticed she liked to touch him there, and he certainly had no objections. "That's not really one I can explain," Nyota said. Her voice had dropped again, and she drawled the words in a manner that suggested she was definitely aroused rather than embarrassed. His own body responded to her, and he pulled her closer, swivelling his chair to face her. "You need to experience it to understand, I think." With a little encouragement, Nyota straddled his lap, her weight resting pleasurably against Spock's growing erection.

"Demonstrate," Spock said, half a request and half a command.

Her smile was small but perfectly formed, shapely lips curving until a small dimple creased her right cheek. Spock brushed his thumb over it, as was his custom, and Nyota turned her head to kiss the digit, her tongue flicking gently over it. His intake of breath hissed through his teeth, hips pressing upwards involuntarily. She could reduce him to his basic reactive functions so simply. Spock so desired the ability to return the favour.

Nyota ducked her head, and Spock felt cool lips run up his neck, her tongue flicking out to taste his skin. Spock placed his hands on Nyota's hips, holding her firmly against him, enjoying the pleasure that coursed through him with each subtle movement of her body against his. "I can feel how hard you are," Nyota whispered against his skin, cool breath tickling, her voice cracking. He swallowed, hands holding her tighter. "You're breathing's quick, and your skin's hot, and I love how much I arouse you." The gentlest of kisses against the pointed tip of his ear. Spock knew it would be flushed green and burning to the touch. Her hips rolled against his, and he let them. "I don't know what's better: the fact you're so hard, or that I'm the only one who can do this to you."

It was still illogical. Nyota was stating obvious facts relating to their situation which Spock already knew, and should have been superfluous to the intended act.

But something about hearing them on her lips emphasised every point and made it resonate through him. Spock was beginning to see the advantages of this particular sexual stimulus.

"I want to feel you inside me," Nyota continued, pulling back far enough to look at him, and enjoy the effect she was having on him. She unzipped her uniform top, letting it drop to the floor. As always, her underwear was plain white. But for Spock, adornments were nothing – what mattered was the woman beneath. "I want you to touch me, Spock." Like lightning, his hand was on her breast, pulling her bra down so he could feel her skin under his hand. He cupped her, squeezing gently, eyelids fluttering shut at the feel of her hard nipple against his palm. "Yes, that feels amazing." Her hands were running over his groin, groping for the zip and rubbing his erection. Within moments he was free, and her hand was around him, tight and cool and making him shudder. "I want you inside me," she repeated. "Would you like that?"

He had to swallow, his mouth was too dry. Free hand pulling her closer, Spock bit down gently on her bare shoulder. "Affirmative," he murmured, his hips thrusting up to meet her rhythm.

"Tell me," she said, her voice a moan now.

"Nyota," he groaned, reaching between them to pull her panties to the side, this thumb brushing against her slick opening. "I would like very much to penetrate you, and thrust in to you repeatedly until we reach a mutually ecstatic orgasm."

He heard her chuckle against his neck, which turned into a whimper when he pressed the head of his penis against her, pulling her down until he was sheathed inside of her. "You're getting the idea, I think," she said, pulling back to look at him.

Spock took advantage of the opportunity to lean forwards, sucking her nipple into his mouth and rolling his tongue around the small bud. Nyota moaned, and he bit down, thrusting up into her in a fast rhythm. Taking it slow was not part of his prerogative – not today. His hands settled on her hips, easily lifting her at his own pace, and his mouth pressed hot against the skin of her chest. "I find it irrationally arousing that you are still wearing your skirt," he admitted, sighing at the feel of her nails scraping across his shoulders, up his neck, over the shell of his ears. "I will be imagining this when we are on duty together, when you cross your legs and I see your skirt raise. I will wonder if you are remembering also – and suspect that you are."

"Mmmm," she responded, rolling her hips as much as his tight grip would allow. "I always think of you at work. Can't wait to get you back here so I can touch you. And I love that Jim knows, and he watches us leave together and knows that I'm going to strip you the first chance I get and fuck you."

Spock groaned against her skin, surging up to capture her lips. Hot and moist, he breathed against her mouth, eyes wide and watching her. "I am approaching my orgasm, Nyota."

"Not yet," she murmured, dark eyes dancing. One of her hands slipped between them, and Spock felt her begin to stroke herself. "I want to come with you."

"Nothing would please me more than to feel your muscles squeezing me," he groaned. Her eyes had fallen shut, and her free hand gripped his shoulder as she began to moan incoherently. He ran his mouth over her breast once more, tongue finding her nipple. "Come for me, Nyota."

"Oh, fuck, Spock!" she keened, shuddering and falling forward onto his shoulder as she crashed through her orgasm. Close behind her, Spock's hips stuttered and he growled, biting down hard enough to mark her breast as he felt his testicles tighten and release.

Whispering her name against the bruised flesh, his arms came around her, pulling her closer against him as he softened inside her. "Thank you," he murmured. He had learned the pleasurable way, over the last few months, that even Vulcans experience a post-coital surge of endorphins following sexual release, resulting in what humans referred to as the 'after glow'. It did not make him want to sleep, for Vulcans rarely slept. It did, however, increase his desire for physical contact and subconsciously relax the usually tight hold he had over his emotions.

"For what?" Nyota asked, happy to pull him closer, his head fitting neatly between her breasts.

"The additional vocal stimulation made for a far more intense sexual experience." He looked up at her, eyebrow slightly quirked. "It is illogical, but a truth nonetheless."

"That can be said of a lot of things."


	3. Intriguing

_Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'intrigue' and 'fantasize'. Spock/Uhura/Kirk._

**Intriguing**

Jim spends a lot of his time watching them, though he's careful not to let it show.

It takes Jim a while to find out that Spock and Uhura – Nyota, he smugly corrects himself – had been keeping a secret relationship going on for months at the Academy. No one had even the slightest inkling, not until that moment of weakness in the transporter room. And he and Scotty knew better than to spread it around. No one would believe them, anyway.

Jim'd been watching Uhura since the day he met her. He watches her for her vitality, for the challenge she presents. He knows, now, that he is not what she's looking for. She has a love of subtlety that expresses itself most clearly in her work; in the slight tilt of her head and crease of her brow and movement of her lips as she translates a complex and entirely foreign transmission. This understanding of her love for the tiny details of life leads him to watch Spock.

He is astounded, at first. What could a woman, specifically an incredibly vivacious human woman, see in him? He was uptight, no fun, and never expressed any of the fleeting emotions he may or may not feel. The man was an automaton. She might as well screw the computer console.

Except it quickly became apparent that wasn't true in all aspects of the Vulcan's life. Uhura was the exception to his emotional rule – and that was intriguing.

He caught it quite by accident one day, the brief glance between them. Spock blinked, his lips twitching slightly at the corners. Spock was smiling at his girlfriend. It was a revelation, one that made Jim hungry for more.

He watched them closely after that, and not a single glance or gesture or word between them passed by without his intense scrutiny. He saw that Spock, when leaving the bridge, always walked behind the command chair rather than in front, the route taking him past Uhura. They did not touch or communicate, but their proximity always made her smile. And sometimes when Uhura crossed her legs, her skirt rode up revealing the upper curve of her shapely thigh. Jim had been glancing at this happy coincidence ever since he joined the Academy, but had never previously noticed that so had Spock. And when the Vulcan's very human gaze ran up her legs, a green flush passed over the tips of his pointed ears.

How much of her body had he raked over with his eyes? What memories did such a visual stimulus produce? Jim was frustrated with the fact he would never know.

Sometimes Uhura followed Spock into the turbolift. He did not monitor the transport device. Despite appearances to the contrary, he had no desire to invade their carefully guarded privacy. And besides which, he didn't really need to. He saw the sly shift of Uhura's eyes, the tightening of Spock's lips. He knew the turbolift was probably paused during its rapid descent, though he could only guess at why.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't imagine Spock backing Uhura's slim frame against the doors. His mind's eye couldn't visualise long-fingered, green-tinted hands lifting her skirt, nor those slender hips insinuating themselves between her legs. He couldn't imagine Spock pinning her in place with the full length of his body, too strong for her to push away, even if she wanted to.

OK, maybe he could.


	4. The Game

_Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'erogenous zones'._

**The Game**

She had made it into a sort of game, their daily routine that was together yet apart. One to which, Spock had discovered, the rules regularly changed and, while difficult to fully comprehend, was always satisfying. Eventually.

In the morning he woke at oh-four-hundred, ship's time. Nyota slept soundly as he left the bed, her hand splayed out on his pillow, eyelids fluttering in rapid eye movement. He moved into the living area and sat facing the window, overlooking the stars. Closing his eyes, but remembering in detail the vista of space before him, he meditated.

When Spock came out of his deep trance at oh-eight-fifty, Nyota had left. Although they slept together in Spock's rooms, his partner (as Nyota insisted on labelling herself) kept her own quarters, to which she returned each morning to dress and make ready for the day ahead. Spock performed his own ablutions, which were brief, and met Nyota at the turbolift. This was where her game often began.

She never stopped the lift, as she had once before. Perhaps she did not want to remind him of the painful circumstances that had brought about that particular intimacy; perhaps she genuinely had no desire to be late for her shift. And for these specific purposes, guaranteed privacy was not a necessity.

Nyota glanced at him, smiled, and pressed the button to begin their ascent through the _Enterprise_'s decks. Spock faced ahead, arms at his sides. Swaying, apparently with the movement of the lift, Nyota brushed her hand against his. An apparent accident, to any observers – for there had been occasions when they were not alone. But Spock knew the contact to be entirely deliberate – partly from the frequency with which it occurred, and partly from the brief glimpse into Nyota's mind that her touch afforded.

In either circumstance, the result was the same.

Light fingertips against the swell of his palm, tickling soft, barely there. A touch that sent him bolt upright, caused him to take a sharp breath through the nose and, ultimately, began what would continue to be a long day of unfulfilled arousal. It had taken Nyota no more than a week, when they began their relationship, to discover the extraordinary number of nerve endings clustered in a Vulcan's hand, and to deduce the effect that a subtle, innocent touch might have on the owner of said hand. As always he glared at her, as he would glare at anybody who took such a liberty. It was common knowledge that Vulcans did not appreciate skin-to-skin contact.

But the wicked, falsely-innocent smile on Nyota's face showed that she knew to the contrary, that Spock enjoyed it far too much.

They stepped from the lift side by side, no sign of any emotion on Spock's face except, to the discerning eye, a very faint green flush across the tips of his pointed ears. They both made their way to their respective stations, and did not address each other except when the professional need arose.

Four hours and twenty-three minutes into the incredibly mundane shift, Nyota turned to Spock with a small frown. "Excuse me, Commander. I'm picking up a subspace communication that's proving difficult to translate. I'm certain it's Vulcan, but the dialect is unfamiliar. Would you mind having a listen?"

On another day, Spock might ask how urgent the request was. Communications was far outside of his jurisdiction, and he was always careful to avoid allusions to their private relationship when on duty. However, as his human colleagues might have put it, he 'had nothing better to do'. "If you feel my assistance is necessary, Lieutenant," he said, standing.

He became suspicious when Nyota did not immediately hand him the earpiece. Instead, she stood and allowed him to take her seat. Then, removing the device from her own ear, she carefully fitted it to the Commander's. One thumb nail quite purposely ran along the point of Spock's ear, making his hand clench on the console. Her eyes, when he had the self control to look up at her with equanimity, were dancing and passionate and filled with desire. A desire echoed in his own, he was certain.

Swallowing thickly, Spock listened for twenty seconds to the transmission. He then quickly removed the earpiece before Nyota had another chance to violate his ears, which were embarrassingly aflame. Green blood had rushed to the surface, making the delicate skin yet more sensitive, even to his own touch. Another discreet stimulation from Nyota would, almost certainly, result in an unpredictable physical reaction. "It is Vulcan, but only a communication between a trade vessel and Colony Prime. Its contents are irrelevant to us."

He stood, and held out the comms device to her, sure he would be able to escape to his own side of the bridge without further incident. But, taking the earpiece back, her thumb slid along his, nail grazing the pad. Her touch brought her mind closer to his, and he felt the lust communicated in her every thought. Jaw clenched, Spock stiffly returned to his own console.

With only half an hour left to the end of their shift, Spock was relieved. He could not help glancing occasionally at the woman who would, very shortly, lie beneath him and pay dearly for her one-sided games. For the past three hours he had avoided every possible means of contact, parrying her every thrust, and was privately quite pleased with his superior self-control.

Until she started whispering. A Vulcan's hearing being so much more sensitive than a human's was normally an invaluable asset. However, when it meant only he heard the things Nyota murmured so softly under her breath, in his own native dialect, he began to wish himself elsewhere. Preferably somewhere deserted. With a bed. And Nyota. And restraints.

"_I can't wait to feel your hands on me_," she breathed. He glanced across at her. Full attention on her console, fingers steadily working the controls, faintly bored expression on her face. But her legs were crossed. Tight. And as he watched, one bare thigh slid against the other and she sighed. "_I want you inside me, right now._"

"Spock, how's the damage control coming on the phaser banks that were hit last week? Is it all fixed yet?" Spock turned to the captain, relieved for the distraction.

By the time they had finished discussing weapon systems repair, Nyota had left the bridge.

There was very nearly a spring in Spock's step as he left the turbolift. If not a spring, then definitely a lengthened, purposeful stride that suggested determination and a fixed destination. The door opened without command, and the room within was dark. For a sinking moment, Spock wondered if Nyota had gone to the rec room.

"In here, Spock," she called softly. Lips twitching into the closest Spock ever came to a smile, he turned towards the bedroom.

Nyota lay naked and resplendent on the covers of his bed. Her hair was loose, and fell like strands of silk about her shoulders, splaying out onto the pillow. Small but perfectly adequate breasts rose and fell gently as she breathed. Her stomach was beautifully toned, and her hands...

His Nyota had decided to start without him.

Biting down on her lower lip, she undulated against the bed, hips surging upwards against her slick fingers. Though his face remained perfectly impassive, Spock found his respiratory functions were momentarily frozen, his mouth dry, his body tingling with anticipation. She smiled at the numerous small, non-verbal displays of arousal that she had learned to discern in him over the last two years. "Come here," she commanded. And he obeyed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he was content to watch her for the time being. One of his hands slipped over the inside of her thigh, fingers gripping and massaging the soft flesh, as he watched Nyota touch herself with fascination.

Before long he was unable to resist – the smell of her arousal, the soft, breathy moans she released from her lips. Ducking his head, Spock lifted her thigh and moved beneath it. He replaced her hands with his tongue, sliding with deft, quick movements over her clitoris. She bucked up to meet his touch, fingers twining in his hair to hold him close. Sucking gently as he circled his tongue around the small bundle of nerves, he looked up at her and she looked down at him. Their eyes meeting, Nyota let out a final keening cry as her body shuddered beneath Spock's mouth.

He turned his face to the side, kissing the inside of her thigh and covertly wiping his mouth on her sweat-slicked skin. "Was that to your liking?" he asked, his voice rough with his own arousal.

"As always," Nyota replied, a soft smile playing over her lips as she pulled him closer. They kissed, and her tongue eagerly ran along his, tasting herself on him in a manner that drove him to press the full length of his body against her. Pulling away slightly, Nyota murmured against his lips, "You're wearing too many clothes."

"Affirmative," he said softly, humour in his eyes. Then he groaned as she turned his head to the side and sucked delicately at his earlobe. "I wish," he sighed, sitting up to remove his clothing, "that you would desist your attempts to provoke me while I am on duty." His pants unfastened, Nyota tugged on them, trying to pull them off despite his position, which made such a manoeuvre impossible. With a raised eyebrow he shifted, allowing her to tug down his slacks and underwear. Finally naked, he re-settled between her open, welcoming legs. "It is proving dangerously distracting."

She grinned, arms settling around his waist, urging him closer. "But the results are worth it," she hissed, as Spock slid into her in one controlled thrust.

Buried inside the most aesthetically pleasing woman on the ship, his lips ran over the peak of her breasts as his hips began to rock. Spock murmured his pleasure against her cool skin. "The end result, when it finally arrives, is most satisfactory," he mumbled, lips brushing upwards to the column of her neck.

"God, I love it when you talk precise," Nyota moaned, making Spock's lips twitch into their almost-smile again.

"Your non-specific deity has little to do with situation, Nyota." He pushed into her hard, one hand sliding down her body to pull her legs higher. "This angle should be conducive to resuming your self-pleasuring, if you so desire."

Eyes squeezed tight shut, mouth hanging open, and making the most erotic high-pitched yelps with each deep thrust, Nyota responded, "Not ... necessary," before he felt her muscles contract around him.

Even in the throws of her second orgasm, Nyota had the wherewithal to cover Spock's hand with hers, to run her tongue along the shell of his ear. It was all the added stimulus Spock required. With a groan, the movement of his thrusts became erratic and he collapsed on top of Nyota as his orgasm crashed through his mind, forcing out his self control.

She chuckled at his heavy breathing in a manner he should have found insulting. Spock was about to reprimand her when Nyota blew gently across the area of his ear she had licked. The cold burst of air sent a final shudder through his body, tore an involuntary moan from deep within his chest.

"Worth it?" Nyota asked, as Spock raised his head to look at her.

The not-quite-a-smile was back, and with it a raised eyebrow. "Not entirely. I believe further recompense will be required."


	5. Convert

_Author's Notes: Written in response to Porn Battle VIII's prompt 'kiss'. Spock/Uhura/McCoy_

**Convert**

McCoy liked to think he was a straightforward kind of guy. His ex-wife would confirm that he didn't pussy-foot around – particularly in the bedroom. Like everything else, he attacked sex directly. He didn't cuddle and he didn't kiss, not really. A perfunctory press of his lips against hers at the hideous social events she'd insisted they attend. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a wet slide of his mouth against hers as he groaned and came inside her. She had always wiped her mouth with distaste afterwards. He was not the only one that didn't really like kissing.

So when teenagers or Jim – in behavioural terms, they were pretty much one and the same thing – spent untold hours making out on couches, in doorways, at nightclubs and anywhere else they thought they'd find a modicum of privacy. Well, McCoy just Didn't Get It. The phrase "get a room" might be cliché, but was also a relevant suggestion. Why fumble in public when you could fuck in private?

But then _he_ had to go and challenge that pre-conception, didn't he? Like he challenged everything, that contrary, green-blooded, pointy-eared, undeniably-sexy hobgoblin. One blatantly private moment in a blatantly public place: _his_ sickbay.

God knows what was even wrong with him. Did Vulcans get sick? It didn't seem _logical_. But the door was broken and didn't make its artificial swish-click as it opened, a sound designed to counter-act the eerie silence of a person's entrance that had been simply unacceptable when this door's prototype was first produced. In spite of over-sensitive hearing – and perhaps that was the problem in the first place – Spock did not look up when McCoy entered. And McCoy didn't think to say anything to alert the pair to his presence as he stood in the doorway watching them.

A pale, olive-hued hand wrapped around her scarlet-clad hip. He did not indent the soft skin there, so his touch must be light. The left hand was raised, bent at the elbow, fingertips tenderly brushing the skin of her jaw. His eyes were shut, which seemed an oddly emotional reaction to the contact. His face was otherwise serene, skin pale and perfectly smooth. He was sat on the edge of an examining table, and Lieutenant Uhura had insinuated herself between his legs, the upper half of her body leaning in towards him. Their lips were joined, not in passion, but in tenderness. They moved slowly together, subtle movements that suggested an in-depth prior knowledge of the other's body and needs. McCoy swallowed when he saw Spock pink tongue slip along Uhura's lower lip, and the soft sigh she gave in response. The Vulcan's lips quirked in the closest McCoy had ever seen him come to a smile.

Then his eyes were open and immediately on McCoy. He shouldn't have to blush – this was _his_ damned med bay, after all. But he did. He blushed and swallowed and cleared his throat, and resisted the temptation to re-adjust his pants. "If you don't mind, Lieutenant, I have an examination to complete?"

"Yes, Doctor," she replied. She at least had the good grace to blush. Spock, he noticed, did not. Bastard.

Spock watched her go, eyes never leaving her figure. McCoy couldn't decide whether this was because he genuinely couldn't take his eyes off her, or because he was trying to goad the doctor into a response.

Either way, he hated to admit it, but he suspected Spock had converted him to kissing.


End file.
